


Stan the Man Goes Double or Nothing!

by runboyrun



Series: Stan My Man! [4]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Choking, Crying, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Double Anal Penetration, Double Penetration, Exhibitionism, First Time, First Time Bottoming, First Time Topping, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Praise Kink, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming, Rough Sex, Shotgunning, Voyeurism, thigh fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-23 05:34:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15599424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runboyrun/pseuds/runboyrun
Summary: “Bill’s really givin’ it to him though,” Richie laughed, mouth full, “Poor Eds won’t be able to walk.”“... How do you know it’s Bill fucking Eddie?”“It’s gotta be Bill. Daddy, remember?”Stan hummed a moment before responding, “But Eddie has that… chaotic energy. I can’t imagine him bending over for someone as easygoing as Bill.”“You imagining them a lot?” Richie joked, but the laugh died out at the heat in Stan’s cheeks. “Yeah?”“Shut up,” Stan hissed, like the two would hear them over their own cries, “I don’t.”“Nothing to be ashamed of, babe.” Richie said, no jealousy in his voice, “They’re hot. I get it.”“Oh my god, Richie -”“Think they picture us? Think they hear how sweet you cry for me?”Holy shit. Holyshit.





	Stan the Man Goes Double or Nothing!

“I’ll give you a blowjob for your cheetos.”

Stan paused, chopsticks precariously balancing his flaming cheetos - death before dust - as he stared at Richie. He blinked once, twice, and pursed his lips; unable to find the words.

“Why would you want cum tainted cheetos?” Stan finally settled on, “I can’t imagine a worse combination.”

“First of all, cum tainted funyuns.” Richie drawled, laughing at Stan’s grimace. Socked feet dragged across the small rug between their beds. Richie, ever the morning person, hadn’t bothered to button his ostentatiously patterned shirt, letting the fabric brush easily across mole splattered skin.

Their floor was strewn with boxes, a maze of mismatched tupperware bins and taped up cardboard. Richie, in a valiant attempt at seduction (that Stan would never admit worked) hobbled over the cautious terrain while maintaining eye contact. He only stubbed his toe twice. Stan giggled at the soft, “Shit,” That Richie let slip despite himself.

Stan watched him slowly bend at the waist to loom over the smaller boy, an easy grin spreading across his face. “Second, who said I’d let you cum?”

Stan arched a brow, “You think I’d give up my food for halfway head?”

“Oh, I most assuredly do,” Richie’s face crept closer and Stan sucked his lower lip between his teeth before thinking better of it. “You’d give up a whole lot more at the chance to cry for me.”

The prickling of heat rising in Stan’s cheeks wasn’t deterred despite his best efforts. “The cheetos would still taste gross.” He argued, difficult out of habit more than anything else.

Richie’s smile was all teeth, the ass couldn’t even pretend to be humble, “But that won’t matter, cause you’re so _sweet_.”

A bark of laughter shot out of Stan, a smile breaking across his pinked cheeks. “You’re disgusting.”

“Mmm, yeah?” Richie finally ducked his head, small dry kisses dragged across Stan’s neck. Stan set the bag and chopsticks aside to let his hands slide under the fabric hanging off of Richie’s shoulders. Trimmed to the quick nails dragging across the soft bump of moles and tracing freckles just to feel Richie shiver.

“Foul.” Stan agreed, breath only hitching a little at the small bite to his jugular in response.

“Love when you talk dirty, babe.” Richie groaned, blowing a raspberry into Stan’s neck just to feel him squirm as he shrieked. He teeth grazed up to Stan’s ear to whisper, “Makes me wanna fuck you into the ground.”

“Jesus, Tozier.” Stan wheezed, legs already rising to hook around Richie’s hips. Richie wasn’t properly on the bed, so the distance to find purchase ended up lifting Stan’s entire lower half off of the comforter. Before his ankles could cross, Richie grasped Stan’s hips to twist them both. Stan straddled Richie’s thighs, chests brushing as they sank against each other. Stan let their chests meld, the soft fleece of his NYU sweatshirt brush across Richie’s pebbled nipples. He dragged the stitched letters a little rougher across the buds at the hitched breath Richie released.

Richie always said he liked Stan’s size. Lean and not _quite_ petite, just small enough to fit in his lap but all legs - long enough to bounce on his cock. Stan usually kissed him to keep that train of thought from getting any more graphic. They’d been fucking for months now, but Stan couldn’t handle the filth that his trashmouth was capable of.

The massive hands that curled around Stan’s hips began to rock him softly, subtle enough that it took Stan a moment to realize they were practically fucking through their pants.

“W-what happened,” Stan stuttered around the easy rhythm he was already grinding into, “To our simple food for head transaction?”

“I dunno,” Richie said, words slow like he was still figuring it out; as if he hadn’t decided on how he wanted Stan from the moment he leaned over the smaller boy. “I think I’d rather fuck your thighs.”

“ _Yeah_ , yeahyeahyeah,” The moan that slipped out of Stan was hardly more than a sigh, but Richie smiled against his neck, no doubt relishing in how he could take Stan apart. Make him so needy, so desperate, like a -

“Little slut, aren’t ya?” Richie asked, “Always so hard for me under those khakis. It’s a wonder I don’t just bend you over and slip right in. Keep you ready for me, plug you up, maybe tie you - “

“If you don’t fuck me I’m going to hit you.” Stan squeaked, face scarlet from the image Richie had painted. He gripped a handful of Richie’s wild curls before yanked until the boy under him grunted, pupils dilating behind his magnified frames. “C’mon, Sir. Make me cry.”

The words were hardly out of his mouth before Richie pushed him face down into the bed. That was most assuredly for the best; Stan’s verbal confidence in bed came in short bursts and usually ruined the mood right after if he started to think too hard about what he’d just said. Richie thought it was adorable, how the pink in his cheeks would bloom down his chest and his stuttered attempts at keeping up the confidence would crumble in upon itself. A mouthful of pillow and quick tugs to yank his pants away from clenched thighs was _much_ more productive.

Stan heard the lube click open before feeling the sharp cold brush his inner thigh. The hiss between his teeth was shushed by Richie as he dug his fingers into the sensitive muscles. Nails dragged across dusted leg hair and quivering muscles, wrist straining just to press a thumb firmly to Stan’s hole. Stan squeaked, pushing back into the digit before the hand pulled away to deliver a swift _swat_ to the soft skin of his cheek.

“Patience, baby,”

“When have you ever had that?” Stan grumbled, spreading his thighs away from their position just to be difficult.

“Don’t be like _that_ ,” Richie tutted, jamming his knees into Stan’s thighs to shove them shut with another smack. “Let me in.”

Stan didn’t bother to formulate a response, instead humming as the thick head of Richie’s cock finally sank between his clenched thighs. Even in this position Richie was _huge_. The weighted slide of his cock along Stan’s taint to nudge the back of his balls left him wondering how Tozier ever fit at all. How Stan could stretch till he felt like he’d split in half just to take him deeper, deeper, deeper -

“Tighten up, baby boy, you can do it,” Stan clenched harder, cheeks flushing as a smile he tried to hide in a pillow stretched at the “Good boy,” In response.

Stan rolled his hips back, the slap of their skin echoing against concrete walls. He craned his neck back, silently begging with cotton clenched between his teeth until Richie’s fingers threaded through cherub curls. The whine when Richie pulled made Stan lose his grip on his pillow, but his back began to bow before he could try to muffle himself once more. He had to balance on his hands before Richie was satisfied, the skin of his stomach stretching as his legs were still pinned flat to the mattress.

“You know I don’t like when you hide from me,” Richie crooned, teeth finding Stan’s shoulder as his hips sped up. His thighs were splayed wide over Stan, practically sitting atop his legs to balance enough to grip Stan’s dick. Quick tugs and twists to the crown that left Stan keening, “Wanna hear all the ways I make you sing.”

“Y-y- _fuck,_ so fucking c-corny,” Stan gasped around a giggle, feeling the overwhelming tug in his core begin to grow.

“So _bratty_ today,” Richie said, laughing along with Stan. How they could laugh in the middle of sex was still beyond Stan - but he didn’t know what else he’d expect with Richie anyway. “Maybe you need a _push_ , huh?”

“Richie -”

“Maybe you gotta earn it this time?” Richie whispered, hand leaving Stan’s cock despite his keening protests, “Mmm?”

“ _Uhh_ , God, fuck you,” Stan growled, feeling the hand return to his hole. Richie’s thumb, streaked in lube and precum, shoved into Stan’s hole without warning. The shriek from Stan was strained from the bow of his neck, legs tightening further along Richie’s steadily speeding cock.

“C’mon, baby bird,” Richie said, thumb relentless on Stan’s prostate, “Earn it.”

Stan began to rock furiously back into Richie’s curling thumb, pressing past his nerves and however lewd he must look pushing back so needy to cum. He tried to squeeze his thighs in time with his shoves, clenching around Richie’s cock as sporadically as his hole was around his thumb. Richie must’ve appreciated the effort if the sudden sucking on his shoulder was any indication.

“Please, Sir,” Stan whimpered, partially because he knew what that did to Richie. Also maybe because of what it did to himself. Maybe. “Please let me cum, please cum on me, pleasepleaseplease -”

“ _Fuck,”_ Richie grunted into the meat of Stan’s shoulder, “Who’s are you?”

“Yours,” Stan answered without hesitation, tears budding in his eyes as he squirmed in Richie’s hold, “Yours, Sir.”

Richie came between Stan legs, warmth spreading across his feverish skin as Richie propelled them both into the bed. He hardly finished cumming before slipping his cock from between Stan’s trembling legs.

Stan tried to speed up, so close but needing _more_. His rutting into the sheets was halted by an abrupt tug down the sheets. Stan squeaked, unable to turn as his lower half was pulled off the edge of the bed, legs unsteady as his toes brushed the floor.

“Wha- _fuck_ ,” Stan cried as Richie, squatting beneath the bed and Stan’s legs, sucked Stan down to the root. The spasming of Richie’s fight through his gag reflex and the thumb still shoved into his hole had Stan barreling over the edge before Richie could properly swallow.

Richie kept Stan in his mouth through the aftershocks and then some, moaning as Stan’s toes tried to scrabble him away from the overstimulation. Trapped between a finger and a mouth - Stan was pinned in spot, hopeless to do anything but take it.

Stan was worried Richie would try to coax a second one out of him, but his bleated, “ _Richie_ ,” earned him mercy. Richie stayed on the floor, rubbing the spasming muscles soothingly. Stan felt the lube and cum smoothed across his skin, and felt a flush creep despite himself. “Get up here before I kick you.”

The laugh from the floor was bright and Stan tucked his head to peer back as Richie’s head popped up between his legs. A small trace of cum was smeared across his chin. Stan rolled just enough to flop onto his back - hips protesting at the dig of the bed frame - to hold his hands out to Richie.

“I thought you only pulled ‘grabby toddler’ when you were drunk,” Richie said, smiling as he scooped up his smaller boyfriend, “You’re digivolving right before my eyes.”

“Toddler?” Stan squawked, “I don’t act like a _toddler.”_

“Sure, babe.”

They only moved far enough to grab a washcloth from an unsealed box - hardly a step; but Stan didn’t want to… drip on anything. Stan tried to reach for it before Richie’s hand went between his thighs to wipe the mess he’d made away. The breath choked in Stan and he ducked his head into Richie’s neck as he cleaned them both off. The intimacy felt soft and Stan, after giving up on grabbing the cloth from him, let himself melt into Richie’s one armed hold.

After throwing the washcloth clear of the boxes, Richie didn’t move right away. Stan didn’t push it, just let his fingers play with the baby hairs along the nape of Richie’s neck. Richie’s hands cradled his legs, fingers brushing the skin with whispered touches as Stan held himself up enough to not need a firm grip.

Richie had been doing it a lot lately. Just holding Stan after anything, keeping their bodies so close Stan could only breathe shared air. Like he was taking a photo of the two of them in the last moments of this space. The last time they’d share their first ‘home’ of squeaky twin beds and paper thin walls. Where he first showed Stan everything. Where Stan finally opened up to him.

It was a shithole for sure, but it had its fucking moments. Heh, _fucking_.

Richie finally moved them, but not before grabbing the forgotten cheetos; earning a snort from Stan. He plopped down onto their ‘sleepy bed’ with Stan straddling his waist. The smaller boy grabbed the chopsticks once more, eating the cheetos with a bored face; as if the past fifteen minutes hadn’t happened. Richie snorted, nose scrunching as his tongue poked between buck teeth.

“You need something?” Stan said, face passive as Richie cheesed up at him.

Richie let his head drop, rolling his eyes dramatically. “You can’t pull ‘Sir’ out on me this early. That’s gotta be illegal.”

“I’m sorry, who just had their thighs fucked?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Staniel. I just wanted some cheetos.” Stan dropped a cheeto into Richie’s waiting mouth. “Thanks, babe.”

“They taste as bad as I said?” Stan asked

“Mmm,” Richie chewed louder on what little crunch remained, “They taste like afterglow.”

Stan kissed him in lieu of a response to that.

“Why didn’t you sleep last night?”

Stan doesn’t eat non-breakfast food in the morning unless he’s thrown off his sleep cycle. Chips? At eight in the morning? Dead giveaway. Well, that, and they shared a bed three feet wide. Not much got by someone you practically slept on top of every night.

“Were you trying to blow me so I’d be pliable to questioning?” Stan deflected, popping another cheeto into his mouth.

“Is there something to _be_ questioning?”

“Richie.”

“No, I just love blowing you.” Richie promised, kissing Stan’s nose as it scrunched up, “Why didn’t you sleep?”

Slow hands rocked across his sides, slipping beneath fleece to rub slightly clammy skin. Richie’s eyes didn’t leave his own, not a trace of judgment in the deep brown irises. No worry either, just patience.

“I don’t know.”

They both knew why.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I just - it’s nothing.”

It was far from nothing. Stan had a nearly corrosive amalgamation of nerves rushing through him that seemed to be careening towards a boiling point. The constant sex was a solid distraction, but Richie must’ve seen it was becoming an avoidance tactic with how much Stan was initiating whenever the _subject_ came up over dinner or studying for finals.

Stan let his gaze wander to their boxes. _Their_ boxes; all of their possessions intermingled with each other. Becoming one StanandRichie instead of Stan and Richie.

“Stan,” Richie murmured, moving one hand from Stan’s side to cradle his cheek, “Stan my man,”

Stan looked back to him.

“We don’t have to do this. You know that right?”

“I know.”

Richie continued as if Stan’s quiet response was unheard, “We can still get the deposit back. No one’s feelings are gonna be hurt. I promise.”

No one’s feelings would be hurt because they were expecting Stan to back out. Stan wouldn’t be able to handle the change and new level of responsibility and stress and stay in his dorm until graduation.

“Eddie is the dumb one,” Stan mumbled, chopsticks swaying in his loose grip, “He’s got guaranteed board for the next three years.”

“Eddie Spaghetti doesn’t wanna be under his momma’s thumb,” Richie answered, he was waiting for a real answer still.

“Georgie’ll expect to come to parties, has Bill prepa-”

“Stanley Uris, if you avoid answering me one more time I’m gonna spank the shit outta you.”

Stan’s eyes went wide, blinking once, twice, “Thought pulling out Sir this early was ill - Jesus!” Stan yelped as Richie’s palm cracked down on the seam between his ass and thighs, still tender from earlier.

“Don’t test me, Uris,” Richie said, a delighted grin at Stan’s gaping eyes, “I won’t tolerate insolence.”

“You dick - _Tozier_!” The second spank hit the same spot and Stan pinched Richie’s nipple with his chopsticks before a third could fall.

Richie shrieked, “Unsanitary!” Before rolling them over pinning, Stan’s wrists beside his head, “Drop ‘em, you _hoodlum_.” Richie hissed, squeezing the wrist holding the chopsticks before Stan relented.

Stan looked at the cherry red of Richie’s nipple and began to giggle. He slowly built into near hysterics at Richie’s scandalized look, eyes wide and both their dicks still out. Richie’s stern frown barely lasted a moment after Stan’s tittering laugh before a bright bark of laughter punched between lips fighting a smile. They collapsed into each other once more, straining cheeks rubbing as they giggled into each other’s hair.

It could’ve been minutes, maybe hours, before they both settled down enough to breathe steady. Tears streaking down Stan’s temples as his ribs trembled beneath the solid warmth of Richie. Stan inhaled deeply, taking in the tempered scent of citrus shampoo and salty sweat in Richie’s scalp.

Stan spoke first.

“I’m ready for it,” He began, “It’s scary, sure, but so is everything else we’ve ever done. You’re a scary guy to be with Richard Tozier.” He kissed the wayward curls his nose was buried in, “But it’s been worth it so far.”

Richie didn’t lean up, didn’t catch Stan’s eyes to look for lies in his sentiment, didn’t even argue the fear Stan could feel. He just tucked into Stan tighter, almost small in his lap and sprawled legs.

“You’re pretty scary too, Stan my man.” He hummed, lips dragging across the skin behind Stan’s ear. “But, I gotta tell ya,” Stan felt the smile against Richie’s favorite freckle, “You’re always worth it.”

They didn’t move until lunch.

  


\-----

  


Bill had found the place initially. It was close to campus, two bedrooms, two baths, a kitchen equipped enough for four boys who didn’t really intend to use it, and came in at affordable enough if they all worked part time. Off white walls begging for tacs to hold posters and a calendar only Stan would bother to flip month to month.

The lease was a year.

Richie had been nervous, sometimes Stan thought more nervous than himself, about the entire thing. He knew Stan didn’t like change; remembered the nightly calls Stan made under his blanket to his mom when he thought Richie was asleep. How long it took for him to create a schedule for himself, to share his space for the first time with another person. To never _really_ be alone. And all that had been paid for, Stan would have to provide for himself in the apartment.

Richie never voiced it, for all the shit he gave Stan about expressing feelings, but Stan could put pieces together. A space hardly bigger than their own plus double the occupants and bills and a job to pay those bills and figuring out how to get to school and anything else Stan’s brain could get nervous about until it bubbled to panic.

Stan and Richie had lived in a bubble for their two semesters, practically in each other’s pockets during winter break since neither had bothered to head home; Stan didn’t need Christmas time and Richie’s parents were out of the country. But, for all their devotion and sexual drama - Stan didn’t bend under pressure.

If he broke, Richie could lose him. The idea was insane, even thinking it furrowed Stan’s brow; but Richie was really as confident as all his swagger let on. He was fragile, and he was as breakable as Stan when it came to them. Richie didn’t want to force Stan into something he wasn’t ready for. Into a dotted line commitment of 365 days.

Stan _had_ to do it though. Richie was practically crawling the walls with RA checks and noise regulations and nowhere to pack a bowl. Nowhere to bake for Stan despite their equal ignorance on how to use an oven.

And maybe shit would hit the fan. Maybe they’d never speak again or one of them would die or _something_. But they were here now. They were the Lucky Seven made of some of the most unlucky shits on the planet. The losers and outcasts and failures who gravitated towards each other until they found a home and a heart and place to be themselves.

They were ready for it.

 _Stan_ was ready for it.

He was nothing but smiles and hip checks and muttered daddy jokes when Bill walked past just to watch Richie gag the day they filled the uHaul. He almost tripped Richie when he saw the _DEFINETELY NOT SEX TOYS_ box in Eddie’s arms - which he held at arm's length with a scowl as Bev took a picture through tears in her eyes.

“We don’t have that many.” Stan tried to amend, but Eddie just stretched it further away.

“That’s so much worse, don’t fucking tell me that. I don’t want to know what you’re letting your buttplugs touch.”

“... Why would we need more than one?”

Beverly whistled from where she was most assuredly recording, “Ooh, Eddie, Daddy treats you _right_ , huh?”

Bill wheezed as Eddie’s neck cracked from how hard he swung back towards Stan.

“You son of a bitch!”

“Don’t use that kind of language in front of your father.” Richie scolded from behind him.

Thankfully, the only thing in the box was underwear and socks since it when hurtling at Richie’s head.

  


\-----

  


The first night in their new home; Stan and Richie didn’t have sex. At first it almost felt like breaking a rule. You had to christen the new place and break in the bed, which Eddie and Bill were doing rather loudly one room over, but Stan just… didn’t.

The bed was a queen with a checkered green and navy comforter like a flannel Richie had buried in one of the boxes left unopened in the closet. The cotton sheets were softer than the ones they had before. Richie had joked that Stan’s legs would slide so nice across them while he tried to stay upright on Richie’s face. Stan had punched him in the Target.

There were a _lot_ of jokes about how they’d fuck their first night together in their grown up apartment with their grown up bed. Some of them had even been from Stan.

But, after moving all morning and unpacking all day, Stan just let himself lay beside Richie. The bed felt gigantic. It wasn’t like his or Richie’s bed back in the dorms. Despite all of the space around them; Stan kept himself glued against Richie’s side. As if they’d accidentally tip to the floor or elbow the wall if they weren’t careful.

“Stan?” Richie whispered.

Stan knew he hadn’t been sleeping, neither of them doing more than staring into the dark and breathing together. Stan hummed in acknowledgement.

“This is _our_ bed.” There was awe in his tone. Laying in the center of their wide bed with his arm around Stan like it had been every night for months. Laying in the bed they tested at IKEA together by jumping back onto the mattresses and laughing and holding hands as they fell. Their first real purchase. _Their_ bed.

“I love you.” Stan mumbled into the crook of Richie’s arm.

“Love you too, Stan my man.”

They didn’t wake up until nearly noon.

  


\-----

  


Stan, admittedly, was a little worried about sharing space with Bill and Eddie. Well, mainly Bill. His lack of self preservation tended to tide into his cleaning habits. But, Eddie kept him in check well enough. It was sort of funny, considered the little scraps that Stan knew about their sex life that Eddie was the one telling Big Bill what to do half the time.

He supposed it made sense. Eddie was controlled his whole life and Bill always felt like he had to carry the world on his shoulders - why not switch it up and let loose? Maybe daddy was just a title after all. It was becoming less and less easy to picture Eddie taking any shit in the sack.

Not that he was picturing them. But. He _heard_ them enough. Concrete walls only lined the perimeter of their apartment, leaving any… vocalisations to travel easy breezy through the shared space. Bill’s voice cracked a lot higher than Stan thought it would.

“They’re animals,” Richie remarked around a mouthful of lucky charms, pointing his spoon to the wall thumping with each slam of what Stan could only assume was a headboard. No, wait, the desk was on that wall. _Jesus._

“Heathens.” Stan agreed, but his eyes didn’t leave the wall, How to Train Your Dragon poster fluttering with each whack into the plaster. He still couldn’t tell who was fucking who - ever since the _Daddy Catastrophe of 2018_ Eddie and Bill kept it to strictly grunts and moans.

“Bill’s really givin’ it to him though,” Richie laughed, mouth full, “Poor Eds won’t be able to walk.”

“... How do you know it’s Bill fucking Eddie?”

Richie’s munching paused, brow furrowing as he looked from the wall to Stan and back.

“It’s gotta be Bill. Daddy, remember?”

Stan hummed a moment before responding, “But Eddie has that… chaotic energy. I can’t imagine him bending over for someone as easygoing as Bill.”

“You imagining them a lot?” Richie joked, but the laugh died out at the heat in Stan’s cheeks. “Yeah?”

“Shut up,” Stan hissed, like the two would hear them over their own cries, “I don’t.”

“Nothing to be ashamed of, babe.” Richie said, no jealousy in his voice, “They’re hot. I get it.”

“Oh my god, Richie -” Stan couldn’t decide if he should try to drown Richie or himself in Richie’s forgotten bowl as he leaned across the table, eyes inches from Stan’s own across the dinette.

“Think they picture us? Think they hear how sweet you cry for me?”

Holy shit. Holy  _shit_.

“I... ”

The thumping stopped. Richie and Stan stared at each other, neither blinking, hardly breathing. A flush started to rise between the scattered freckles across Richie’s cheeks.

Richie’s tongue darted out, Stan helpless but to follow the motion. Richie inhaled sharply, mouth opening, smile spreading -

“Did you eat w-w-without us?”

Stan bolted upright, nearly flipping the flimsy table at Bill’s question. Maybe his stutter got worse when he was getting stre-

“I’m gonna take a shower.” Stan blurted before he could manage to spring an erection about his best friends in front of two of his _best fucking friends._

“I’ll join you,” Richie started, looking at least a little justifiably flustered.

“Don’t you dare.” Stan hissed, before taking quick short steps to the restroom, valiantly hiding his growing erection.

The cold water stung as it hit his trembling chest, and Stan was relieved to be shaking for any reason other than which of his friends was getting fucked against a desk by the other.

Stan turned the knob colder.

  


\-----

  


PDA within the Tozurdenbrak Fortress (Richie’s idea) was always well contained. Being there was only one TV and Richie and Bill loved their shared PS4 than most things; the four usually spent all their time in the common area. Affection within the couples seemed almost secondary because there was so much affection within the Losers themselves.

Even now the boys were practically on top of each other. Eddie and Stan with their sides meshed against each other and they curled into the couch, Stan’s head on Eddie’s shoulder with Bill’s cheek squished into Eddie’s knee. Richie had sprawled across Bill to steal chips a half hour ago and just decided that laying his head in his lap was just fine.

Stan didn’t know what they were playing, some survival horror where you controlled an ungodly amount of characters. Every time the perspective switched, Richie and Bill would switch control. They seemed to have it pretty evenly separated - Richie got all the girls and Bill the boys.

Eddie seemed enthralled in the game despite his hatred of jump scares, which, Jesus, the game had a lot of, but Stan was more content to read on his phone. But, somewhere along Richie’s turn, Eddie nudged Stan to look up.

As Stan took in some poor girl in a towel tied up, Eddie snickered and said, “It’s you.”

Stan jabbed an elbow into Eddie’s side and a kick into Richie’s ass for the wheeze of laughter he heard at his feet.

It felt like a lifetime ago, even though it’d been only months. Eddie behind him helping Bev truss him like a turkey. Eddie’d helped open a lot of doors for Stan. They hadn’t spoken about it, not sober at least, and the topic left a prickle in Stan’s skin after the… conversation the day before. Eddie _had_ heard him like that before. Had heard how _sweet_ he could be. And there’s no denying he’d told Bill all about it - open, honest relationship and all that.

“I can’t believe you helped her,” Richie laughed up to Eddie, “Like a little magician’s assistant.”

“I didn’t b-believe him w-when he told me.” Bill agreed, sticking his tongue out at Stan, “You w-were a natural ap-p-aprently,”

“I’m in a room of betrayal,” Stan sighed, kicking Richie again at his bark of laughter.

“C’mon, Stan.” Richie wheezed, “He had to tell daddy, right?”

At Bill snatching the controller, Richie grabbed him by the collar to pull him close. Stan could only hear his raspy mumble, unintelligible over the hysterical yelling from the game, but he could see how Bill went bright red.

The boy sat up straight, seemingly done with whatever shit Richie had said, but mumbled, “Yeah, d-duh.”

Richie’s eyes went wide, like he hadn’t thought Bill would agree with whatever he’d suggested, “Yeah?”

“Shut u-up, it w-was,” Bill yelped as Eddie tugged his ear. Stan looked to Eddie to see an equally red face.

Apparently he was more on top of whatever the fuck they were talking about with a hissed, “Quiet!” And darted eyes at Stan and Bill.

Richie just laughed, but Stan could see he seemed almost short of breath. Eyes moving between all three of them in a way that couldn’t be anything but nerves.

“Yeah, Billiam. Listen to your son.”

All three of them smacked Richie. Bill let his character die too.

  


\-----

  


Richie didn’t bring _it_ up again.

Well, Richie didn’t bring it up for a week. Which, in its own way, was about all Stan could hope for. At least he didn’t pull a, “Hi, you’ve just woken up, let’s discuss your fetishes?” again. Maybe because they’d had their seemingly mutual freakout in the A.M.; threw off Richie’s whole sexual exploration sabotage.

Not that Stan had thought there _was_ anything to discuss. Bill and Eddie were both undeniably attractive in their own way. Just like Beverly and Mike and Ben were. Stan had never thought of _any_ of them that way before, but he’d also never heard Bev and Ben fucking until the couch nearly moved from the _other side of the fucking wall._

But, that wasn’t anything to warrant a discussion. And it certainly wasn’t anything to warrant a discussion in the middle of getting fucked by his boyfriend.

Stan should’ve known better, honestly. Richie had a filthy mouth and an innate ability to know just which string of words would make Stan melt. And with a slow grind up against him, deep enough to make Stan shiver, Richie murmured, “Think they can hear you, baby?”

They couldn’t, they weren’t even home; Stan had checked. Twice. But, Richie had cheesed at the flush on Stan’s cheeks at the thought that maybe they might hear Stan getting railed within an inch of his life. That they’d hear the squeak as his ankles were pushed up to rest beside his ears as Richie’s hips shifted to press all his weight down into him as he fucked Stan deeper into the mattress.

“You get so _loud_ ,” Richie’s tongue licked along the shell of Stan’s ear, a laugh huffing as Stan squeaked. “Gonna have to gag you before they get back.”

Stan didn’t mean to moan as loud as he did. If anything it was proving Richie’s point. But the rough noise tore from his throat regardless and the hips crushed against his ass paused long enough for him to whine.

“Yeah?” Richie taunted, lips still dragging against the soft spot behind Stan’s ear as he shook - restraining himself in wake of dragging a dirty secret out of Stan, “You want me to shut you up? Let you scream into a wad of cotton, make you beg around a bit in your mouth to cum?”

“Rich _ie_ ,”

“Shh.” Three fingers snaked up Stan’s throat, curled over his chin, and pressed down harsh onto his tongue. A thumb and pinky bracketed Stan’s face, keeping his just open and stretched, “Hush, babe.”

The fingers in Stan’s mouth bent and shifted, back and forth in time with Richie’s slowly gaining hips. Like Stan was getting fucked from both ends. It didn’t do anything to hinder how _loud_ he was getting; but Richie dug the just a bite of nail into his soft tongue and Stan nearly tried to bite his fingers just so he’d do it again.

Stan didn’t make it another two minutes before cumming between them, spilling down onto his own chest and face. Richie pounded harder, chasing his own orgasm, as he dragged his pinky to catch a bit of cum from Stan’s cheek to slip into his mouth with the rest of his fingers.

“So dirty, baby,” Richie grunted, hips snapping against Stan in time with each overstimulated squeak, “So fuckin’ greedy for it, always wanna be full - _fuck_ \- gonna have to drag Bill and Eds in here just to plug you up right,”

“Oh fuck, oh _fuck,”_

“Yeah? All three of us filling you up? You’d never get a break, baby,” The cries around Richie’s fingers rose in pitch the harder Richie fucked down into him. Stan wanted to close his eyes, to wince at the _too much toomuch_ of it all, but Richie was staring at him - _into_ him - now.

“Bet if you cry loud enough, they’ll come running. Wanna see how sweet you are for me, how well you take it.”

“Richie, please, _god,_ ” The fingers finally left Stan’s tongue to grip his cheeks, twisting his head to kiss Richie nearly as brutally as the other boy’s hips dragging against him as he finally came.

Perhaps it’s karma for all the times Stan’s tongue got loose from a few shots and cooing words that let him catch the growl squished between their lips, breathed into his slack mouth.

“They wanted to see - _fuck!”_

Richie didn’t move off or out of Stan for a long moment, out of breath and shaking nearly as much as Stan himself. He did, however, turn them to their sides, allowing Stan’s spine and ass a bit of levity from their near gymnast hold of the last god-knows-how-many minutes. The position left their noses brushing and small spattered kisses across Stan’s cheeks. The afterglow was soft enough that Richie’s climactic profession almost went unregistered.

Almost.

“What do you mean they want to see it?”

“Uh,”

“Richie,” Stan grumbled, looking for a laugh or a grin or anything beyond the slowly dawning embarrassment across Richie’s face, “Holy shit, were you serious?”

Richie dug his face beneath Stan’s chin, glasses poking as he hid from Stan in the most fucking Stan-like fashion that _Stan_ thought he was getting whiplash, “This is a vulnerable time in my mental state, you can’t question me in my fragility, Staniel.”

“You can’t even pretend to play that card. I _own_ that card.” Not nearly as patient or emotionally soothing as Richie, Stan began to jostle them both to try and get eye contact once more.

Richie laughed through a wheeze, clamping hands down on Stan’s hips, “Stop shifting so much with my dick still in you.”

“Richie.” Stan pressed.

Richie coughed, staring at how his fingers drummed across Stan’s skin, “Bill might’ve, uh, mentioned something to me.”

“What?”

“Many moons ago.” Richie assured.

“Richie.”

“Eons, practically,”

“ _Richard._ ” Stan’s hand darted for Richie’s chest.

“Ah, fuck, brat!” Richie shrieked as Stan twisted a nipple, “It was back before you ever creamed your jeans, babe. Don’t - I’m giving an _accurate timeline_!”

Stan flushed, nose and brows scrunched, “Is me having an orgasm your before and after Christ?”

“Well you certainly called me God a lot - Stanley Uris, I will take you over a _knee_.”

“You can’t keep threatening that and expect me to believe you at this point.” Stan teased, smiling at Richie’s exasperated huff.

“It was when he told me about it, the party,” Richie finally conceded, hands leaving his hips to hold Stan’s hands clear of his now red nipples. He played Stan’s fingers and he muttered, “He said some stuttering version of how you told them you’d never cum before and they got to picturing it and I guess Eddie said something about how you’d probably cry, which; psychic honestly, and they both agreed it was probably super hot.”

That - that didn’t make any sense. Stan knew Bill had said something about it, Richie had told him that night, but they… _thought_ about it? They wanted to do that? With him?

“Are you serious?”

“What do you want me to say? You’re a sex icon, Stanley Uris. You were all they could talk about after I said I invited you.” Richie’s tone was the same high joking tone he always used, but his eyes seemed tighter. “I _did_ tell you any of the Losers would help you out.”

He had said that. Stan remembered it clearly. Stan remembered the offer between beds that had seemed so far apart. Remembered the chance to allow himself to let go, to trust Richie, to let Richie see him like that. He remembered thinking that Richie was the only possibility - that no matter how much he loved his Losers, it could only be Richie Tozier.

Richie Tozier who would ‘happily masturbate’ in front of him just so he could feel confident enough to do it himself. Richie Tozier who opened his heart and ass up with a care that didn’t seem possible from someone as unflinching and reckless as him. Richie who’d held him after he cried and washed his hair and told him he loved him in their big bed that he couldn’t manage to sleep in without touching Stan.

“I don’t think a… threeway would’ve been an ideal scenario to freak out over a handjob.” Stan finally said, squeezing Richie’s hands to make him look at Stan again. Like Richie, the words were a joke, but he tried to keep his face as open to his boy as he could. Richie deserved that.

Richie blinked once, twice, and smiled too, “And some delicate fingering, don’t cut yourself short.” A wink was thrown in for good measure before he loudly kissed Stan’s forehead.

“Oh my God.”

They didn’t move from there, Richie soft enough to slip out of him and both too tired to try and be clean until the morning. Stan had noticed that, as he drifted towards sleep, Richie didn’t leave him feeling dirty. Stan could just - be there with him. And that could be enough. Stan had nearly drifted off when Richie’s jaw moved against him.

“I’m glad you picked me.” Richie whispered into his hair, mouth moving the curls as he spoke.

Stan smiled, as if there had ever been another possibility, “Of course I did.”

“Shut up,” Richie whined, but Stan could feel the smile, “Let me be gay into your hair.”

Stan snorted, but let Richie mouth unspoken sentiments into his curls before kissing his Adam’s apple and saying, “I’m pretty sure you were just gay in my ass.”

The laugh huffed against his forehead was nothing short of adoring.

“Fuck, I love you.”

  


——-

  


It could’ve, for all accounts, been a one time thing. Richie said whatever could make Stan’s face redder and clearly that was the topic of that… session. They both came, cased closed.

Except it kept coming up. Stan started to think Richie genuinely didn’t realize what he was saying (which would explain so much about him as a person), it wasn’t even always about Bill or Eddie with them; but more of Stan being _full._ Stan taking it from both ends, Stan fucking into someone else while Richie fucked him, Stan taking two at _once,_ which, Stan had to check was even possible after.

And whenever Richie did happen to catch what he was saying, usually through Stan questioning it, he’d wring a second, third, orgasm out of Stan until he was fuck drunk and unable to stay awake past Richie holding him. A horrendous but undeniable way to get Stan off whatever train of thought he was on.

The point seemed to be that Richie wanted to involve a third party for the sake of the visual and auditory experience of Stan receiving more than one dick at a time.

Wording it like a term paper didn’t make it any easier to think about without getting hard.

Richie had done it all, so all explorations were up to Stan. it was always what Stan wanted, what would make Stan cry. This… this was _Richie’s_ kink. Richie’s kinks themselves seemed endless, but this was _the_ kink. This was what made Richie cum harder than anything else, and that thought alone left Stan shivering.

It felt like a power Stan was holding, not over him; but for him. Richie wanted to try something in bed that Stan hadn’t voiced so he didn’t want to say anything about it. Except he kept saying it, tongue looser than Stan’s after his fifth shot. Maybe he was embarrassed? Maybe he thought Stan would say no?

Well, fuck it. Stan could be proactive.

It took a little while for Stan to sort through Richie’s abysmal personal organization to find The List. After an admittedly revolutionary experience with rope; Stan decided he wanted to explore a little deeper into… optional sex additions.

Richie had nearly pulled something when he’d heard Stan’s phrasing, but obliged with expected enthusiasm, “Anything to see you squirm, babe.”

The List was on the seventh page of an otherwise unused composition book. Richie’s usual scrawl was tamed with spaced full capitalization. He’d explained that he didn’t want anything to be illegible and Stan miss an opportunity out of embarrassment and avoiding asking Richie to elaborate. The sentiment only made Stan’s heart ache a little.

It was a simple bullet point of things Richie had done or was okay with doing, no way to tell which was which. But if Stan saw anything on it that he’d want to do, all he had to do was ask. The list filled the whole page, and things like KNIFEPLAY had left Stan speechless. Richie was nothing if not imaginative. It didn’t specify who did what to who, but just that Richie was ‘down to dick’ about all listed.

The book was jammed between another notebook full of stand-up ideas and a sophmore year geometry textbook. It looked a little well loved for someone who insisted math was for the bad type of nerd. Stan peeked inside it for just a moment, but couldn’t fight his grin at the disproportionate doodles of what he could only assume were the Losers. Richie drew Eddie and Stan at his own hip height. Dick.

Stan took a photo of it, unwilling to rip a book but maybe wanting to make it his background for Richie to get embarrassed about later down the line. Setting the textbook aside, Stan flipped open to The List.

Things like BLINDFOLDS, SEMI PUBLIC, and LAP DANCE filled the page. At least is was _page,_ singular, and not _entire notebook._ That might’ve given Stan an ulcer.

It didn’t take long for Stan to see what he was looking for; written and erased enough times over that the words were indented into the paper. Richie had put it, but taken it back, over and over again. The wording left Stan nervous. Grabbing the book, he quickly poked his head into Eddie and Bill’s room - thankfully finding it empty - before finding Richie about to devour a slice of pizza at a barstool.

“You wrote threeway on The List.”

The cold pepperoni dangled inches from Richie’s mouth as his eyes slowly slid to him, face giving nothing away.

“Do you time all your sexual exclamations specifically around me eating, or is this just a fetish too?”

“The List, Richie.”

“How can I _hear_ the capitalization?”

“We’re required to talk about anything you put; your rule.” Stan pressed on, Richie was deflecting, and Stan was the king of that shit; he wouldn’t be fooled, “Did you mean a stranger?”

“Guess we’ll come back to your food kink later,” Richie chuckled, suddenly seeming to find the post-it notes war on the fridge incredibly fascinating,  “Nah, there’s risk in that. The threat of possibly being murdered by someone is only sexy if it’s consensual.”

“So someone we know, you’d want that?”

“Pretty sure I erased it, Staniel.”

“Pretty sure you rewrote it too.”

Richie’s lips pursed, a flush was magnified by his oversized frames as pink seeped into the skin beneath his eyes. He dropped his slice back into the box, but didn’t move beyond that.

“Someone you had in mind, Stan my man?”

“What about someones?”

Richie didn’t respond for a long moment, unnervingly still for all the twitching he normally did.

“You got _someones_ in mind?” Richie finally looked at Stan, almost bewildered as his eyes flitted between Stan’s own, unable to focus. Stan really had caught him off guard. Not wanting to break the tentative control he had on this conversation, Stan simply slid his eyes over to Bill and Eddie’s ajar door. He stared at it for a long moment before looking back to Richie. The realization across the other boy’s face would’ve been hilarious if Stan wasn’t try so fucking hard to keep this under control. “Oh. _Oh.”_

“You want to, right?” Stan asked. Richie hadn’t said so - hadn’t confirmed Stan was right, that this went beyond incredibly descriptive and specific dirty talk. God, what if he was wrong? What if this was a no go for Richie? What if he’d erased it because he didn’t want to bring in someone else, Jesus, what was he think -

“We can’t both be freaking out, Stan,” Richie muttered, face still red but unable to look annoyed.

“I’m perfectly calm.” Stan shot back.

“Sure, babe,” Richie finally smiled, “I - Jesus, we don’t need - “

“It’s not about needing anything,” Stan cut in, stepping towards Richie as the tall boy seemed to fold in on himself, “It’s about what you want. You’re allowed to want things without me coming up with them first. You are clearly the brains of this operation, sex wise.” Richie snorted, and Stan pressed on, confidence growing, “I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t okay with it. And I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t think you were _really_ okay with it.”

“Jesus, Stan,”

“You wanna see me stuffed, Sir?” Richie’s eyes shot wide, gaping at Stan, “Wanna stretch me around your and Bill’s cock? See me cry while I take it for you? Bent over for you and taking Eddie in my mouth?”

“Where the fuck - “

“You’ve been talking about it a lot,” Stan snickered, leaning against Richie until their chests were flush.

“I haven’t been that specific.”

“I’m good with context clues.”

“Wanna help me with my paper for Lit then?” Richie wheezed, but Stan could feel the press through their jeans as he began to grind against his hip, “Could use a second eye putting my sources together.”

“You wrote _three_ way on The List,” Stan interjected before Richie could get them off track, “You okay with one more?”

“Oh, babe, I don’t know if _you_ could handle that.” Richie said with a wink, hefting Stan up to sit fully in his lap. Stan’s legs dangled as he ground down on Richie, tucking his face into Richie’s neck as he whimpered at the new level of friction.

“You think you’re hot shit, Tozier,” He shot back, pressing his weight down onto Richie, “Was that what you were talking to Bill about? How much you wanted to see it?”

“I was asking how hard he came when Eddie told him how good you were for Bev. Bet he almost blacked out thinking about you and Eddie together on top of him.” Richie said, sucking a mark into Stan’s throat.

Stan bit Richie’s collar with a little more force than strictly necessary, unable to immediately come up with a rebuttal with Richie’s heavy cock grinding up against his ass. Even through his jeans it was a lot. That was an image. Especially with Richie there too. Richie, Sir, telling him what to do - telling him how well he’ll take it for all of them.

Before he could string together enough words to make a coherent clap back, the door opened. Stan didn’t need to look up from Richie’s neck to know who it was, the high indignant squawk and loud snort of disbelief could only be one couple they knew. One couple Stan knew Richie wanted to watch fuck him.

“You can’t have sex in the kitchen,” Eddie demanded, “We all eat there.”

“Wanna get stoned while you yell at us for it?” Richie asked.

Bill caught the flush across his cheeks and Stan could practically feel the heat radiating off Richie’s neck. Bill shrugged his shoulders, smiled, and said, “Fuck it, s-sure.”

  


\-----

  


The four of them were huddled close, sitting on weather treated pillows. Eddie had insisted beach chairs looked tacky and they couldn’t bother to try and afford real patio furniture after buying beds and plates.

Their second floor balcony hardly fit four standing up, so it left them all practically in each other’s laps sitting down. Well, Eddie was technically in Bill’s laps. Stan was sideways between Richie’s spread legs. Bill had claimed the wall while Richie leaned against the glass door. Stan and Eddie’s legs sprawled half intertwined in the overlapping space between them.

The only further scolding from Eddie were a few “disgusting”s and “unsanitary.” He’d relented when he’d realized Richie’s fly had, indeed, been zipped.

Richie wanted to have a foursome. Stan also wanted to have a foursome. The joint passed around the huddle in easy motions, everyone just snickering and talking about nothing. Stanley Uris did not know how to ask two of his best friends if they wanted to partake in a foursome. He looked to Richie after passing the joint to Eddie. Richie was watching him, red rimmed eyes staring into his own as he slowly licked his lips.

Stan followed the motion of his tongue, just as he’d done a week ago, and Richie smiled the same way. Stan watched him inhale, roll his head to the other couple, and finally speak.

“Wanna have a foursome?”

“Sure,” Bill answered easily as Eddie nearly swallowed the joint.

“Cool.” Richie laughed.

“You’re joking, right?” Eddie finally wheezed. His eyes shot over to Stan, “He’s joking, right?”

“No,” Stan said, face flushing despite his poker face, “We should all have sex as friends.”

“Just a joint agreement between buds,” Richie agreed, “Full homo.”

Stan watched Eddie, watched the way his mouth twisted and brow scrunched, trying futilely to make sense of Richie Tozier. Stan could certainly relate to that; but this wasn’t happening without Eddie on board. Bill wouldn’t do it without Eddie just as much as Richie wouldn’t without Stan.

Eddie must’ve found the answers he’d been looking for as he took a deep hit, handed the spliff to Bill, and crawled between Stan’s legs, half balanced atop Richie’s own. He took Stan’s face between his hands, leaned in, and gently floated the smoke between their brushing lips. Richie and Bill whistled as Stan sucked it in.

“I swear to God, Stan,” The flush in Eddie’s cheeks didn’t match his scathing tone. His legs forcing Stan’s own apart - spreading him wide to accommodate him. Eddie took what he wanted; he shoved and spat and he wanted _Stan._ “If this is a joke,”

“It’s _not_ ,” Stan mumbled, nipping at Eddie’s lower lip around a smile. Eddie, instead of responding, bit back. Sucking Stan’s lip between his teeth and rushing blood to the surface as Stan squeaked.

“W-well we’re moving right along,” Bill said while getting his feet under him, voice dropping to a rasp Stan hadn’t heard before, “Let’s take this ins-s-side?”

“Bill, wait -” The door dropped out from beneath Richie, sprawling him, and subsequently Stan and Eddie, to the floor of the living room. “The _fuck,_ Billiam?” Richie wheezed, clutching where an elbow had hit a rib.

Bill swung a long, long leg over the pile of limbs and bent at the hips to just - lift Eddie into the air. Stan’s mouth went dry at the casual strength that Bill had in his arms, just hefting Eddie over his shoulder and stepping over Richie.

“Our room or y-yours?” Bill asked as Stan scrambled up before Richie could try and lift him too. There was no doubt he could, but they were still close to the balcony and Stan didn’t want to slow down whatever this was with hospitalization. “Do w-we need condoms?”

Richie looped his arms around Stan’s waist once they were both inside, door safely shut behind them. Stan let himself be held as Richie hummed in thought. Bill looked at them both, Eddie’s fists beating down on his back, and quirked a brow.

“As much as I wanna watch you two fuck Stan into the couch, you two” Richie said, pointing at Stan and Eddie, “Would kill us if we got cum on it. And messy sounds fun.” He hummed like he was thinking it over, but Stan’s brain was still on barebacking. All of them getting that messy, inside and out, _fuck_ , “I think we can fuck our sheets up, hm?” He twisted Stan’s face to meet his own, licking along his lip like he could still taste where Eddie bit him.

“Good,” Eddie agreed, “No cum on the couch.”

Stan nodded his consent too, and Bill looked nothing short of delighted.

The tumble to their room was exactly the uncoordinated but somehow fluid mess Stan expected. It was almost a race to the bed, which Richie yanking Bill’s hair as he groaned and Eddie finally finding purchase on the ground to drag Stan beneath him again. Bill and Richie had both abandoned their shirts in the living room.

“Want to fuck you,” Eddie rasped against Stan’s mouth as he tugged Richie’s hoodie off of him, only breaking away to get it over Stan’s head, “Want to see you cry.”

“You’ll have to try harder then,” Stan whimpered, yanking at Eddie’s own clothes.

From somewhere to his right, Stan could hear Bill say, “So much hostility.”

“It’s a bottom fight for dominance.” Richie mused, idly palming Bill beneath his sweats, “Ten bucks on Eds.”

The air whooshed out Stan as Eddie flipped him onto his front.

“It’s not a bottom fight,” Bill said as Eddie tugged Stan’s shorts down, “Eddie almost always tops.”

Stan snickered into the comforter, “I knew i - _ah!”_

Stan liked to think he’d been desensitized on some level to sex. He could take more than a handy and _gentle fingering_ before, admittedly, bursting into tears. But Eddie wrapping his forearm around Stan’s throat to tug him upright, slopping at the spine to bend back to Eddie’s height, and grinding his dick against Stan’s exposed ass was going to give him a run for his fucking money.

For a second Stan was worried he’d ruin this. That his oversensitivity would be off-putting, uncomfortable, for Bill and Eddie. Bill and Richie flanked him and Stan could barely catch the peripheral of Bill dropping low before his cock was suddenly _very_ warm. The choked cry that left him was nearly drowned out by Bill’s own groan as he took Stan deeper into his mouth. Richie must’ve grabbed lube because Eddie’s free hand had become decidedly slick as it probed against Stan’s hole.

Stan’s hands came up to grapple at Eddie’s arm around his throat. A finger slid in without warning as he keened. Richie began to pet his hair, kissing his cheeks as he scolded Eddie.

“Gentle, Eds, he’s sensitive.” Stan squeaked as the finger twisted, short and thin; but firm, demanding his attention.

“Awful tight, aren’t you?” Eddie said as he eased in a second finger. Stan shook between Eddie’s hand and Bill’s mouth, hands clinging to Eddie for some sense of purchase. He kept his eyes closed, convinced he’d cum if he even chanced a look at Bill swallowing him down.

“Y’should feel him,” Richie said, tightening his grip on Stan’s curls, smiling against his cheek as he whined, “Clings so tight around your cock, greedy little hole always begging for more. Even when it’s red and swollen he just cries until you put something in it.”

“Shut _up_ ,” Stan spat, embarrassed.

“Aww, don’t get shy now, baby,” Richie cooed, pulling Stan’s hair until he squeezed his eyes open to look at Richie, “Don’t you wanna feel good?”

A third finger wedged into him before he could respond, hands leaving Eddie’s arm to grab Richie’s shoulders instead.

Eddie looked over Stan’s shoulder, “Pull off, Bill.” Stan’s hips tried to follow Bill’s retreating mouth, but the arm on his throat and hands in his hair kept him firmly in place, “Don’t want you to cum yet, Uris. Need you to keep up with the rest of us.”

“Oh, you haven’t heard?” Richie drawled, pulling Bill to his side as Eddie tipped Stan onto his hands and knees, “Stan my man can last ages. Almost no refractory, and he loves to cry through all the aftershocks between them.”

“J-Jesus shit,” Bill groaned, mouth swollen and flushed.

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” Stan hissed, blush spreading down his chest.

“Course not, sorry babe.” Richie said and dropped a kiss to Stan’s shoulder blade as Eddie scissored his fingers in and out, “How’s it feel?”

“G-Good,” Stan whimpered as Eddie withdrew and lined up behind him.

“J-Just good?” Bill cheesed. Stan looked over his shoulder at the heated look Bill and Eddie were sharing, “Looks like y-you gotta step it up, Eds.”

Stan knew that Eddie, if nothing else, wouldn’t back down from a challenge. Eddie reached around and stroked Stan as his dick slipped along the crease of Stan’s ass. He let the head bump into his rim, just dipping inside as he twisted the crown of Stan’s cock. Stan came with a cry, and while his hole spasmed, Eddie pushed inside.

A choked shout, which he would later deny was ever anything close to a shriek, punched out of him as Eddie shoved in. One long push until his hips were flush to Stan and Stan was quaking like a leaf. Eddie wasn’t necessarily big, his dick fit his build, but _fuck_ if he didn’t know how to use it.

A hand pushed the small of Stan’s back farther into a dip as Bill murmured, “There, like that,” and Eddie rammed into his prostate. Eddie didn’t fuck gently, or sweetly; he fucked as chaotically as he was. It wasn’t painful, far fucking from it. His lack of girth and length let him push harder without risk of hurting Stan.

“You’re taking it so well, baby,” Richie said, now kneeling in front of Stan’s wobbling arms as small _ah ah ah_ ’s punched out of him with each thrust. The gentle kisses to his face were the only reprieve to the brutal thrusting into his ass. Stan’s arms, at their limit, crumbled beneath him as his back arched further into Eddie’s quick pounding. His face landed in Richie’s lap and the taller boy pet his hair as he cried out into his thighs. “Bet you still want more, huh? Not full enough, never enough, right?”

“Uh - _fuckfuck -_ Richie, Ed - _fuck!”_

“Yeah, Stan, I know,” Richie cooed, “Maybe you need another, huh? Maybe Bill and I gotta slide into you together, really stretch you out.”

“F-f-fuck, Rich.” Bill said, but his voice was like gravel, arousal palpable.

“You want that, baby? Wanna sing for us while we split you open on our cocks? Still leaking Ed’s cum outta you?”

“Please, Richie, _pleaseplease,”_

Eddie was beginning to push faster, if that was even fucking possible, and the desk ramming the wall made a whole lot of sense now as Stan felt him nearing his limit. Bill snaked a hand around Stan’s cock, chuckling at the squeak, and quietly said, “How many times c-can you c-cum?”

Stan’s open mouth panting wasn’t a suitable answer, so Richie said, “We’ve gotten to three before he really starts sobbing. Twitches like a livewire.”

The hand around Stan’s cock tightened and began to match Eddie’s pace with brutal efficiency, “I think I wanna b-break a record.”

Stan bit into Richie’s thigh as he came, shooting across the sheets below him. Eddie let out a startled shout at how Stan contracted around him, and came with one, two, three more shoves.

Eddie, spent, slid out of Stan with surprisingly care before dropping to lay on his side beside him. Their faces were level as Eddie took in the flush and tears across Stan’s cheeks and tapped a soft palm against his cheek, “Good game.”

Stan wheezed despite himself, legs quaking as he stayed up on his knees. Eddie kissed him once more - teeth catching Stan’s lower lip - before propping up on one elbow.

Bill spoke first, “So were you serious?” He asked, looking to Stan, “Ab-bout that?”

Stan knew what he meant, but the words stuck in his throat. Christ, he didn’t even know if he could. But he wanted to try. He really fucking wanted to try. He nodded, lip between his teeth.

“Use your words, babe.” Richie nudged from above him, trailing ghosts of fingertips across his quivering spine.

“Y -” Stan coughed, throat dry, before trying again, “Yeah. I want that. I mean, if you do too, I don’t want -”

“Stan… if you think offering anything close t-to that is twisting m-my arm then I d-d-don’t know w-what to tell you.”

Stan coughed around another laugh. Richie rubbed Stan’s shoulders once before saying, “Alright. Water break. Staniel needs electrocarbs or whatever the fuck.”

“Richie, that’s not correct and you _know_ that.” Eddie snapped.

Bill just laughed, and slid two arms underneath Stan’s chest to tip him back off of his knees and into Bill’s lap. Stan’s nerves were still fried, and even the brush of Bill’s chest against his back left him twitching. Bill, in lieu of cooing or praise, simply rubbed firm hands across Stan’s arms. The touch, though initially jolting, was like setting his senses back in place. Acclimating him back down to a reasonable sensitivity. Stan leaned into it.

Richie had hopped off the bed once Stan’s head was up and Eddie had taken off down the hall with him. Stan thought that maybe it should’ve been weird, him in Bill’s lap naked with Eddie’s cum in his ass. But Bill had surprisingly soft legs, and Stan had never declined sitting on them before.

“Should’ve brought Ben,” Stan mumbled, soft in his afterglow with Bill humming in response, “Richie said he’d be a sexual waterboy before.”

Bill snorted loudly against Stan’s ear, patting him on the arm as they listened to Eddie and Richie argue over whether or not different gatorade flavors provided more nutrients. Eddie referred to them as lemon and arctic blast instead of colors. Richie called him a sociopath.

“Yeah, he’d k-kill it. Noble position among an o-orgy.”

“Is that what this is? I thought foursome did sound a little wordy.” A whir began in the kitchen, followed by rapid popping, “Tell me they’re not making popcorn.”

“I love p-p-popcorn after fucking, I don’t know w-what to tell you.”

“ _Bill Denbrough_. You do not eat in bed.”

“Nope, E-Eddie hates the mess. Fuck everywhere else though.”

“... Have you fucked in the kitchen?”

Bill didn’t respond for a long moment. Stan looked up to see his sheepish smile.

“That hypocrite.”

“O-only on R-R-Richie’s chair.” Bill said, shrugging his shoulders.

“Oh my _God_.” Stan laughed.

Richie and Eddie returned a moment later with hands full of blue gatorade and popcorn. They plopped down onto the bed and Richie uncapped a bottle for Stan before grabbing a handful of popcorn. Stan felt less shaky the more he ate and drank, easy conversation just like any other day floated between the four as they laughed and teased and talked general shit.

Only after Eddie suddenly said, “Bet you could slide right back into him.” At Stan in Bill’s lap, did Stan sputter around his gatorade.

“Eds!” Richie chided, but Stan could see the heat in his eyes, “We’re trying to keep him alive with hydration, not kill him.”

“You could though,” Eddie whispered, looking at Bill over Stan’s shoulder. Stan quickly capped the drink as he felt Bill’s hands go from his arms to stroking up along his waist and thighs, “He’s so light. Just lift him up and set him down.”

“Yeah?” Bill whispered, hands gripping Stan firmer, “You w-want that?”

“I want you to make him scream.” Eddie said, on his hands and knees as he crawled over to them.

While their eyes stayed locked, Bill nudged against Stan with a questioning hum, to see if he was up for more. Stan rocked back against the rapidly growing erection beneath him while staring at Richie. Bill moved one hand only enough to tug his sweats off, Eddie assisting, before clutching the reedy flesh of Stan’s thighs.

Stan let out a cracked gasp as was hoisted into the air, thighs up against his chest. Stan’s knees were nearly to his shoulders, feet dangling as Bill hovered him over his cock.

Richie, after moving the popcorn because he knew he’d never hear the end of it if Stan got a kernel near his ass, tossed the lube to Eddie who began to pull long drags down Bill’s cock. Stan couldn’t see it, but he knew the Big Bill nickname wasn’t just about their childhood height difference anymore.

Eddie fucking him had been recent enough the the initial breech didn’t feel impossible. But Stan just kept sinking down down _down_ until he was convinced he’d never been so full in his life. The angle left him scrabbling for Bill’s neck to find some purchase. He had no leverage, and as another inch sank in a moan cracked out of his throat.

“Shh, babe,” Richie said, stroking his shivering calf as another inch went in, “It’s okay, Bill’s gonna do all the work. You just gotta be good for us.”

Stan nodded fervently, eyes watering as Bill dragged along his prostate. He was impossibly hard, erection twitching and jutting out from his trembling stomach; Eddie dancing his fingers across it idly.

Bill wasn’t a talker during sex, more content to hum soothing notes into Stan’s ear as he sank him all the way down. But, once Stan came to rest on his lap once more, he leaned over to Eddie with a ragged voice, “I’m fucking your cum back into him.”

Eddie’s hand gripped Stan’s erection in response just as Stan clenched around Bill. Stan let out a keen of humiliation at how much that affected him. At how effortlessly Bill could lift and drop him down onto his cock, at how on display he was for Richie and Eddie, and how fucking turned on he was from it.

Bill didn’t fuck rough or fast like Eddie had, almost gentle in his slide into Stan. But, then again, Bill wasn’t just fucking him alone. They had a plan in mind.

The hands holding Stan’s thighs tightened as they moved across the bed until Bill was resting against the headboard, legs out in front of him, with Stan flush to his back and legs lifted up and out.

Richie grabbed the lube as he situated himself between the two sets of legs. He didn’t move right away, transfixed as the drag of where Bill’s cock sank into Stan’s hole. At how it was, “Fucking rosy, Stan - God, you’re taking it so well.”

Eddie came back up to Stan’s side, rubbing at the twitching muscles in his abdomen and thighs instead of teasing him further. Trying to help keep him relaxed for what was coming.

Richie lubed up three fingers and crouched until his breath ghosted over Stan’s cock. Richie paused, and then sat up again, clean palm on the headboard, to bring his face inches from Stan’s own. Stan appreciated that. He didn’t know if he could actually handle _seeing_ how stretched he was going to be. Better to just have Richie in his sights.

Richie smiled at Stan, rubbing a finger along his rim for a long minute before whispering, “Breathe in,”

Stan took a breath.

“And out,”

The finger slipping in beside Bill’s cock was jarring no matter how much he anticipated it. Stan flinched, and immediately bore down to try and ride out the sting before Richie could try and call this off.

But Richie didn’t try, didn’t insist Stan could tap out or try and move his finger away from where it was tucked inside his spasming hole. He just kissed Stan’s clenched eyes and asked, “Color?” In the softest voice Stan had ever heard.

“Yellow,” Stan strained, hands holding Richie’s wrist to keep him from moving.

“Okay, baby, okay,” Richie promised, kissing his nose, cheeks, and finally mouth. “You just lemme know, we’re not in a rush.”

Eddie’s hand didn’t stop its massage across his diaphragm. Bill’s fingers squeezing one at a time down his thighs. Stan didn’t know how long they sat there before he could will his muscles to relax, to adjust.

“Green,” Stan said, voice small but firm.

The finger began to curl, rocking in and out almost imperceptibly. Bill didn’t move, just quietly groaned against Stan’s throat whenever Richie twisted just so. Stan reached up to pat his cheek.

“There, there,” He consoled, “You’re doing great, buddy.”

Bill barked a laugh, biting Stan’s neck as Richie said, “Yeah, you’re a real trooper. Taking one for the team, Billiam.”

Maybe it was the laughing, but the second finger went in without nearly as much struggle. He still winced, but the tension of before had been cut with the love between them all. It was easier now, to fall into this, open up for this.

Plus, Stan _really_ wanted to see the look on Richie’s face when his kink dreams came true.

The third finger wasn’t as easy to laugh through, and Eddie took to jacking Stan in place of trying to keep his muscles from fluttering any further. Stan keened at the quick pace, unable to decide if he was trying to move into or away from the sensation.

“Just let him, Stan,” Richie said, fingers working carefully inside him, “Wanna get you all relaxed, open right up for us, yeah?”

“F-fuck, _hah_ , Richie, I -”

“What, baby? You what?”

“C’mon, do it, pl - _fuck_ \- please,”

“Yeah, Richie,” Eddie encouraged, rubbing the crown brutally with his thumb, “Give him what he wants. He’s asking so nicely.”

Richie hummed and twisted his fingers to press against Stan’s prostate while rubbing a thumb into his perineum. Stan shot off into Eddie’s hand with a shriek. Richie left one finger inside him, curled against his rim to hold him open, and slotted his dick into the small space available.

Stan forgot how to breathe as Richie pushed inside. No sound left him, only his mouth open in a silent scream. He didn’t know how to process this, it was so much, so _much somuch._ Eddie pressed a palm against his chest as Richie cradled his face.

“Breathe, baby, c’mon,” Stan whistled in a breath through his teeth, but the moment his brain registered how to take in oxygen; he remembered how stretched he was. The cries coming out of his throat were feeble, hitched and squeaking as he shook on Richie and Bill’s cocks.

Christ, Richie _and_ Bill’s.

“You’re doing great,” Richie swore, stroking thumbs under his eyes, catching the tears that leaked at the chaotic battling of stimulation and stretch and _fuckfuckfuck_ \- “I need a color, Stan, talk to us.”

“Y-y-y-”

“Okay, just breathe, you’re alright. Do you want me to pull out?”

Stan’s arms shot around Richie, trapping Eddie’s hand between them as he clung. Richie huffed a laugh into his curls. “Roger that, Stan my man. Here, lemme,” Richie snaked one hand down between them to brush along Stan’s rim, rubbing the ring of muscle as Stan tried to relax.

“You look so g-good,” Bill promised, voice strained with the effort to not thrust into the impossibly tight heat.

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed, rubbing the inner thigh muscles from where he was trapped, “Stuffed full of cock, you were made for this.”

Stan flushed despite himself and ducked his head to hide in Richie’s neck. Richie kissed his temple and asked, “Want me to move?”

“Yeah,” Stan choked, voice thick, “Green,”

“Mm’kay, alright,” Richie began to slowly, so fucking slowly, rock into Stan. He’d barely breached when Stan had frozen up, only the head popped in past his rim. The movements were gentle, careful, as he eased himself along Bill. Stan was too busy mouthing at the freckles under his tongue and blushing at the praise in his ear that he hardly noticed once Richie bottomed out.

“Oh.” Stan breathed, “ _Oh,”_

“O-Oh is f-f-fucking right,” Bill gasped, a disbelieving laugh, “Holy f-fuck, Eddie, I -”

“If you tell him to squeeze in I’ll kill you.” Stan said, earning a laugh from Richie.

Richie kissed him with an, “I love you,” whispered on his tongue.

“Yeah, w-we all love Stan,” Bill rasped, hips making aborted thrusts in an attempt at control, “C-Can I,”

“Yeah,” Stan said, mouth still brushing Richie’s own, “Fuck me.”

It was rough at first, Stan clinging to Eddie’s hand as the other two figured out a rhythm. Bill would press up as Richie pulled away, then let his hips drop as Richie pushed in. Stan, legs still in a Bill’s vice grip, was helpless to do anything but ride it out.

As their movements synced up, Stan could feel the tugging in his gut; cock straining against Richie’s abs and he rolled his hips into Stan.

Stan reached for Eddie, pulling him upright as Richie sat back to watch how his cock sank in next to Bill. “Stan, what,” Eddie seemed to get what Stan’s loose limbs were trying to convey, and straddled his face, thighs bracketing his shoulders as Stan gripped his ass to pull him close.

Stan cried out around Eddie’s cock as Bill thrust brutally at the sight. Stan sucked like his life depended on it, taking Eddie as deep as he could go, thankfully shallower than Richie, and relished how Eddie held his hair, guided him how he wanted. Didn’t make him think. Just used him and let Stan feel.

The four continued like that for some time. Stan had never felt so full in his life. Had never been so full in his life. Eddie slipped away as he came, coating Stan’s face and chest as he jerked through orgasm. Stan yanked him down for a kiss, made him taste himself.

Eddie wobbled off of the pile and grabbed a discarded shirt from the floor to wipe the rest of the mess away. Stan hardly noticed, suddenly caught in the sight of Richie leaning forward once more to tongue fuck Bill. Eddie and Stan had been aggressive before, but Bill and Richie were near violent. Both fighting for dominance, rowdy and chaotic as teeth clicked and smiles split. It was the hottest thing Stan had ever seen.

Richie only pulled away after Bill’s tooth caught his lip enough to draw blood. Richie with skewed glasses, wild hair, and a drop of blood in his smile shouldn’t have been nearly as hot as it was. Revision: _that_ was the hottest thing Stan had ever seen.

“F- _ah -_ fuck, Richie, I - p-ple -”

“God you’re so beautiful, split on my dick.” Richie gasped, eyes darting frantically across Stan’s figure, like he was trying to memorize the way Stan’s entire chest was pink or how his lips eyes puffed or eyes glossed over with tears. How he yelped with rough thrusts but begged for more even through their stuttered apologies.

“Want you to cum, baby,” Richie pleaded, voice desperate, “Want you to cum all over me, in me, make a fuckin’ mess,”

Stan’s brain nearly froze; _in him?_ Stan had never been _in_ anyone. Richie was always so confident, so in control, giving Stan everything he wanted and more.

“F-Fuck yeah, c’mon Stan, f-fuck him,” Bill groaned, hips stuttering in a tell sign of getting closer.

“I - I’ve never,” Stan murmured, wide eyes searching Richie’s face for any regret at his stumbled confession.

“Richie how are you this awful?” Eddie groaned, sated and soft beside them, “You’ve never let your boy fuck you?”

Richie’s face went impossibly brighter, hips losing force as he stared at Stan.

“I hadn’t ever,” Richie began, before coming to a stop.

“W-well I wanna c-cum,” Bill said, “So how ‘bout I d-d-do that and you two can s-switch it up in y-your out of order sex adventures?”

Richie laughed, but his eyes stayed on Stan, “Yeah, alright, c’mon Big Bill.”

“Really?” Stan asked.

“Yeah,” Richie’s smile softened, “Unless you don’t wanna let Bill cum -”

“Not into that,” Bill begged, “S-s-super not into that.” Stan clenched around them both, and rolled as much as he could to get Bill back into motion. Eddie spat something undoubtedly dirty into Bill’s ear as he came, dick squeezed against Richie’s in Stan.

Stan didn’t hear whatever it was. He was too busy looking at Richie, at how open his face looked, at how nervous he seemed. Richie wrapped his arms around Stan, lifting him off of Bill and himself. Stan winced at the tug, but was quickly turned horizontal to where he’d laid before to a small clean spot on the bed. Eddie and Bill spooned as they watched them.

Richie’s thighs bracketed Stan’s hips as he reached for the lube. His hands were shaking as he tried to pour it onto his fingers, all confidence gone from his usual teasing demeanor. Stan gentled the bottle from his grip, and whispered, “Let me. I’ve got it.”

Richie flinched at the first brush of a finger against his hole, and Stan wondered if Richie saw this when he looked at him. Saw the trust and the nerves and just how fucking beautiful Richie was. He always said Stan was pretty, maybe it wasn’t just dirty talk.

“C’mon, Richie,” Stan said, pressing the tip of a finger to the pucker, “Let me in.”

Richie let out a whine at that, and dropped his upper body to curl atop Stan’s own. Chests flush and cheek to cheek. Stan knew he was doing it so Stan couldn’t see; Stan himself pulled that maneuver all the time. Richie always spanked him for it, or taunted or pulled his hair till he was upright.

Stan let him be. Just kissed his cheek as he pushed a finger in.

The prep was gentle, not nearly the same pace or mood of before. Bill looked asleep and Eddie close to it. That was okay. This was hardly a show anymore.

By the time Richie was taking four of Stan’s smaller fingers, Stan figured he’d be able to take his average size cock without issue.

“You’re lucky I’m average,” Stan snickered as distraction as he lubed himself up, “Not throwing you into the Trojan XL deep end.”

Richie laughed around a keened breath, smacking Stan’s head, “Brat, should take you over my knee.”

“Again with the threats,” Stan mumbled, “Tell you what; if this sucks you can spank me for it.”

“Well that’s a dead bet,” Richie gasped, feeling the head of Stan’s cock brushing his entrance, “Cause you’re perfect.”

Stan turned his head enough to nudge Richie’s face with his nose. Once Richie turned enough Stan kissed him hard. He swallowed Richie’s gasp as he lowered him onto his cock.

Both of them panted, shook, and maybe cried just a little bit. Richie rocked with hesitance, squeaking at each shift of Stan inside him. Stan was speechless, fingers in Richie’s hair as he kissed him through it all.

A first for them both, how ‘bout that?

Neither lasted long, too much had come before and too much was new now. Richie splashed across their quivering stomachs and Stan only had a moment to feel smug about not cumming first, ignoring that he’d already cum three times, and jerked as he filled Richie.

They laid there for what could’ve been a minute or an hour. Arms wrapped tightly around each other, neither willing to shift away for a moment from their overheated embrace.

Stan slipped out of Richie as he softened, but Richie only dropped to his side just enough to not crush Stan before curling against him.

Sleep was creeping in, exhaustion and frayed nerves cloying behind Stan’s eyelids. He tucked just enough that the four fit on their big big bed before just letting himself feel Richie breathe.

Just as he was drifting off, Richie mumbled, “How did we end up the only ones with cum in our ass?”

Stan smacked him as he giggled.

  


\-----

  


“I didn’t think you actually had a paper to write,” Stan confessed.

“I wouldn’t joke about my academics.”

“I figured it was really niche dirty talk.”

“Teacher/student isn’t on The List but I could go for a solid TA meets cute student as long as they don’t have any control over their grade.”

Stan flicked an index card across Richie’s nose, laughing at Richie’s squawk.

“I’m never gonna survive this paper.” Richie said.

“You really aren’t.” Stan snorted, but stroked Richie’s curls as he sighed dramatically.

Stan did his best to help, but Richie’s notes were nonsense. Richie seemed to understand them well enough so Stan just began to pick index cards out one by one to hold in Richie’s view before dropping them down among the mess. Cardstock fluttering down to rest aimlessly across their checked bedspread. Stan didn’t want to distract him and Richie looked close to falling asleep; a silence lulled over them both. Only the scratch of paper and click of keys to fill the space. Their space. Stan smiled at that and Richie looked up at him. He stared through his coke bottle lenses for so long Stan would’ve been uncomfortable if it was anyone else. Richie’s eyes squinted the way he did when he smiled wide and spoke so softly Stan almost missed it.

“I’m gonna marry you before you ever get the chance to dump me.”

Stan fingers twitched on the flashcards that had chicken scratch he couldn’t begin to make sense of. Richie sounded so sure. Like he’d thought about it a lot. Like marrying Stanley Uris was the perfect thing for Richie Tozier to do. As if Richie wasn’t the one who carried the sun in his soul and kept Stan alight.

And Stan dumping _him?_ As if Stan could ever even think to it were possible find someone who never tried to ‘fix’ him but simply stood beside him and all the mess that he was. To find someone who asked for cheetos in exchange for blowjobs and had the confidence to wear whatever the fuck he felt like.

As if anyone he could ever love a stranger the way he loved Richie Tozier.

Richie was still looking at him, no longer fiddling with the keys of his laptop. He didn’t look nervous waiting for a response to his exclamation. He just looked at Stan like he didn’t have a paper to finish. Waiting for Stan to decide to answer on his own time.

“Then it’d be divorce, Richie.” Stan finally mumbled.

“Exactly.”

Stan blinked at the haphazard array of index cards and loose leaf papers across their bed. He looked at Richie’s head, still cradled in his lap, giving him a soft smile that felt entirely misplaced in the sudden twist of their conversation but also so goddamn appropriate. Richie with his big hands and bigger eyes and roundabout ways of saying he loved Stan.

“You’d never survive the paperwork.”

“Now you’re getting it, babe.”

**Author's Note:**

> part IV took a fukkin' turn, huh?
> 
> please leave a comment. l-let me know if this sucks. 
> 
> tumblr: birdboyinthedeadlights


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